Director's letter Christmas 2001
I remember the first time I saw my father cry. I was nineteen years old and I was leaving for the Navy the next day. His tears came from a father’s pride, a father’s fear, and from simply not knowing exactly what his son had gotten himself into. It was also the first time I heard him pray out loud outside of Mass, a wake, or a novena. He gave me my blessings and sent me on my way. In 1979, Vietnam was “over” but still fresh in many peoples’ mind. My father did not even remember how angry he got when his ten-year-old son (1970) mentioned that he would go to Canada if he got drafted. The images of war were placed on the nightly news yet my father, who was not a US citizen at the time, made it clear to me in his own words that the opportunities the United States gives us come at a price and if we are called to share in paying that price, we must do so. Obviously, he made an impression on me.I joined even though the most visible veterans, in my world, at the time were young Chicanos who had given their all and had returned with post traumatic stress disorder and/or with drug problems. Eight months into my stint in the Navy, I was home visiting and a friend of my mother’s commented as only Mexican mothers can that “most” people who joined the service came back a little off. My defensive mother replied, “Así como lo vez es como ha sido siempre.” (He’s always been this way). I never quite figured out if she was saying that I was nuts when I went in or if she was trying to say that I was O.K. I’ll let you be the judge of that. At this point, you are wondering if I am ever going to get to the holiday part of this letter. Fear not, there is a method to my madness.
Although every holiday season is special, this one definitely has an especially different flavor. This season tends to bring out the best in people and in that respect, things are similar but seem to be magnified. I am constantly impressed by the dedication people have shown to those in need and if you look at the storeroom (oops- I mean conference room) just north of my office, you will see that the Migrant Education Department has gone beyond expectation (which is tough because the bar is constantly raising) in the Holiday Baskets that have been prepared for migrant families. But why do we have the opportunity to serve the families who are close to home and that are in need? It is because we live in a country that affords us this opportunity.
The different flavor, if you will, is the increased appreciation of the freedom we have to do wonderful things. How has this increased appreciation taken root? We have all had a recent common experience that has brought our great nation together more than any other in our lives- this is at least true in my life. I was driving down Truxtun Extension channel surfing the radio when I heard the news of the planes hitting the World Trade Center. I immediately called Laura (my wife) on the cellular phone and asked her to describe what she saw on the television. A myriad of thoughts came flashing or should I say crashing through my mind. Who, what, when, where, why, …? How is their family, how is my family, how are my friends, How are …? I needed to work, I wanted to go take my children out of school, and I contemplated joining the CIA. Confusion, repulsion, worry, concern, nausea ….
These were similar feelings to the ones I had when a suicide truck bomb plowed into a complex in the Lebanon airport and exploded killing over 250 marines. I was on the USS New Jersey just two miles off the coast when that happened. I had been in the Navy for four and a half years when we were sent to the coast of Lebanon to be part of the Multinational Peacekeeping Force. Although I was not chosen to be part of the clean-up crew, I volunteered to go to the site to help dig through the rubble. I was so close yet I felt helpless. But we all had a mission, a role to play, which we did even without complete understanding. Our job was to serve where needed. I wondered if anybody really understood what we did and how much freedom we gave up so that the ideals and the standard of living in the United States could remain so high. I wondered if anybody even knew we were there.
I later found out that many people knew we were there but I also know that they will never understand exactly what we did and what we saw. All I could hope for is that they could bring themselves to appreciate the sacrifices made by those in the military and those who give other service to our country. There is a song that has been played and remade many times since World War II called “I’ll Be Home for Christmas.” This song has never had as much significance to me as it does this year. I have been physically home for every Christmas since 1983. That year, I was flown off the ship because I had competed my four years and I had fulfilled my extension to the satisfaction of Uncle Sam’s designees.
I missed Bob Hope and Brooke Shields by 10 days but I saw them on television with my buddies sitting in the “front row” of the “theater” on the flight deck. I remember feeling terrible (NO! not because I missed Brooke Shields) because I felt as if I had abandoned my friends. It took a friend at home to remind me that we all had our roles in life and that I had just started my new role, as a “civilian” and I needed to move forward. I have moved forward and I have been privileged to be able to continue to serve.
There are those who continue to do the real work so that I can do what I do. My nephew Alejandro (cousin’s son) is currently serving in the Air Force and my niece Marissa is in New York putting in twelve-hour days as a Red Cross volunteer. I know many of you also know somebody who is making these types of sacrifices. Young men and women that give their all so that we can give what we can. I have never met Bob Hope or Brooke Shields personally and I am probably not as close as I should be to Marissa and Alex. However, I am happy with what they did and what they do to support our country.
Merry F#&($! *G Christmas. I mean it in the kindest way. It has been said that sailors have the cleanest bodies and the filthiest mouths of all the people in the armed services. I don’t know how true that is but I do know it took me many years to get to the point that curse words slip out occasionally rather than make up a third of my conversation. As a sailor, that was one of the few freedoms we enjoyed. Everything else was pretty prescribed and we did what we had to do without question and without expectations. However, knowing that if nothing else, my family was back home caring and praying for me made my time there go by much better. In all our celebration and in all our good deeds during the Holiday season, let us not forget to pray for those who serve our country’s military and in emergency units as well as for their families. Get in touch with those you know who will only be home for Christmas in their dreams and let them know how much you care. Please have a wonderful holiday season and a DARN good new year!
Migrant Education, Region V Director
Jose Morales